There are days when I feel filled with hope and faith. There are days when I feel that I have been granted more grace than I ever deserve. However, I am still broken most days. There is often a lot of guilt I carry with me. I have guilt for not being the best mother that I can be. I have guilt that I am not giving the best care my mother could be getting. I feel guilt that although I share my demons with my husband, I find myself not sharing enough.
There are days when I am making up dinner plates for two little ones and I am about to make my own plate when I realize that I am not done (thankfully the older two can make up their own dinner plates). I have another person that I have to tend to, and I am the best person for the job when it comes to my mother (do not get me wrong, I love my mother). When I am just about done getting the younger two children ready for bed, I remember that I have to get my mother into the shower. I have to remind her not to change her clothes again because this makes more laundry for me, but I know that I will probably have to tell her at least once more before the day is done. There are days when my mother’s silence is a concern for me and I wonder, is she declining in her brain? Should I be prepared to give more of myself? I have a slight reprieve in that my mother lights up when she is around my husband. Furthermore, I have my husband beside me, offering as much of his self as he can through these difficult times.
Yet still, I am often angry. I have my own medical problems that I would love to have taken care of, but I put them off because people need me. The thought of my husband having to care for me in my recovery causes me to guilty. This makes so mad. The fact that my mother has FTD makes me angry. The idea that someone ran a stop sign less than a year ago, altering my life, makes me angry. The idea that I have to prolong my schooling because my caregiver role takes over drives me nuts.
I know I should pray, and I do.
I know that things will get better, but I am waiting.
There are so many things that I know, but this storm is getting me very wet. The lightening seems to strike me again and again, and the thunder is deafening. My knowledge of counseling practices, prayer, and scripture does not keep me from feeling frustrated most days. I am broken and I am sharing this brokenness. I am struggling with trying to understand what God wants and expects from me. I am talented, but confused. I still urge others to be broken. I hate feeling my pain, but the numb feeling in my body wasn’t healthy either.
Small graces: Rebekka’s cast is off in 4 weeks (in the words of an elementary schools student…Spica casts suck!). I am enjoying writing the group proposal I have due is a few weeks. I have two older children who have the potential to be helpful (even if they do not always seem helpful). I have a great husband who tries his best to be available for me (even if he is a work in progress). I have wonderful friends and family who understand that even if I do not see them (at all sometimes) they are near and dear to me.